


The Promises We Make

by kosmickway (KMDWriterGrl)



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/kosmickway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at Catherine and Jim's evolving relationship throughout their years at CSI and LVPD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promises We Make

**Author's Note:**

> Each portion of the story is titled with the episode it covers. Therefore it contains SPOILERS for the following episodes: Justice is Served; Ellie; The Finger; A Little Murder; Grave Danger; A Bullet Runs Through It; Dead Doll; For Warrick. 
> 
> The series of vignettes titled "Gun Crazy" is supposed to take place before Grissom’s departure and is reflective only of my imagination and should in no way be taken as canon.

**“Justice is Served.”**

 

Jim Brass had worked with Catherine Willows long enough to know that the no-nonsense red-head did not suffer fools gladly. Her combination of brains, guts, and intuition left no room for people who would attempt to make a fool out of her. Anyone who tried to tangle with Catherine Willows was usually left wondering which whirlwind had hit them and how they hadn’t managed to see it coming.  

Brass, however, had never seen her as hell-bent for leather as she was facing down the redneck carney who was leering at her with the expression of someone who knows there truly is a sucker born every minute. His only mistake so far was taking Catherine to be one of those suckers. 

As he approached the Tunnel of Love, he could hear Catherine engaged in a heated exchange with the carney. Sara had apparently decided not to interfere– she had placed herself about five steps behind Catherine and was watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and growing alarm. He watched as Catherine drew herself up tall and got in Pickens’ face, her body language screaming just how badly she wanted a fight.

“--And if you so much as look at me the wrong way, I will personally lock you in a cell with someone who’s going to do the same thing to you that you’ve been doing to all those little girls!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Brass hurried up. “Did you start the party without me? That could get dangerous.” He tried to catch her eye, to send her an unspoken signal to calm down, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, her face taut with anger, glaring daggers at Pickens.

Jim quickly dispatched his own business with Pickens, taking the carney off to the station for a chat with Vega. After seeing him into the car, Jim turned to watch Catherine. She was working methodically, the way she always did at a scene, but anger was apparent in her movements. He sauntered over, giving himself time to observe her before gently grasping her elbow. 

“Catherine?”

Her reaction was to jerk away while whirling on her heel, hands up defensively. Jim took a step back, his own hands up. “Hey, hey! It’s just me.”

“Dammit, Jim, do NOT do that to me when I’m working!”

“Sorry. Just wanted to talk. Can you give me five minutes?”

Catherine blew out a breath. He could see her pulse pounding in her neck and knew she was still riding a rush of adrenaline from her confrontation with Pickens.  

“Yeah, sure.” She called over to Sara, who was carefully dusting the ride car. “Keep going. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Sara signaled her understanding and continued working. 

Jim began walking away from the ride and Catherine fell into step next to him. 

“What’s up, Jim?”

“You and Pickens looked like you were really getting into it. He didn’t touch you, did he?”

Catherine shook her head. “He did and I would have split his filthy, lying lips open.”

Jim shook his head, both amused and amazed at Catherine’s vehemence. “You’re running hot today, Red. What’s going on?”

“Oh, the usual. A carnival full of ex-cons and degenerates comes to town and a little girl winds up dead. The same carnival my own little girl has been begging me to come to for a week now.” 

She looked up at Jim then, and her face reflected a horror she had been trying to conceal. 

“It could have been Lindsay, Jim. It could have been one of her friends. It could have been me, in that car, turning around to find my child gone. Scum like Pickens do not deserve to walk the same Earth as little girls like Sandi and Lindsay, much less work in a carnival where they can get close enough to pull them out of their seats to do God only knows what. So, yeah, I’m running a little hot today. I want to nail that bastard’s balls to the wall.”

Jim pulled Catherine into the shade underneath one of the tents housing the arcade games and leaned against the counter. “I hate it when it’s kids, too. Everyone does. But I know you hate it more than most– not because of Lindsay, but because of you.”

At her questioning glance, he continued. “You look at people and see yourself in their place and you want to do your best by them. There’s nothing wrong with that. It makes you a better CSI. But you can’t let bastards like Pickens do this to you every time.” He gave a little nod of his head in her direction. “I can still see your pulse racing.” 

He watched her lift her hand to her neck and narrowly avoided the impulse to place his own hand there, too. 

“Keep your calm. I know it’s hard. But you owe it to that little girl, to YOUR little girl, to do the best job you can so that this doesn’t happen to someone else’s kid.”

Catherine nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just–“

“Hard. I know.” Jim straightened. “You ready to go back?”

“Yeah.” Catherine rolled her neck. “I think I’ll bring in the dummies later tonight, simulate what happened in that ride. Maybe we can get a clue as to what happened."

“I’ll send a few of my guys out, just to make sure Pickens and his men don’t bother you.” He fell into step beside her, watched her face as they walked. 

“That’s great, Jim, thanks.”

“Just find the evidence we need. I’ll do the nailing to the wall.”

Catherine laughed and Jim headed back to his car, his mind still lingering on Catherine. 

***

**“Ellie”**

He watched Ellie hop a cab, his heart breaking all over again. Then he turned and walked blindly up the Strip, heading in the direction the rest of the team had gone in search of food.

_You failed, Jim. Look what you’ve done to your daughter._  

Christ, he needed a drink. 

_No_ , he thought, curbing the impulse. I _don’t. I need ..._

He met the team coming out of New York, New York, Warrick and Nick carrying enormous hot dogs piled high with toppings, Sara and Catherine holding grinders. Grissom, predictably, had stayed back in the lab. 

“You missed the hot dog cart, man!” Nick exclaimed, taking a bite of his concoction. “Better head on in and get one before the line gets too much longer.”

“Not hungry, thanks guys.”

_You failed, Jim. Look what you’ve done to your daughter._

Catherine lagged behind the rest of the group. “Hey. Let’s go someplace and talk.”

He smiled at the overture. “I’m not good company, Cath.”

“You’re exactly the kind of company I want.” She linked arms with him. “Let’s walk up toward the Bellagio. I’m in the mood to see the fountains.”

They broke from the group and walked in silence, dodging crowds. Finally Catherine said, “She’s beautiful, Jim.”

He smiled fondly. “She always has been.”

“Bit of an attitude, though.” She squeezed his arm. “I wonder where she got that from.”

Jim laughed, but it was hollow.

“That attitude always got her into trouble. It’s why she left New Jersey so soon. It’s why we don’t get along.” He shook his head and shot her a sidelong glance. “Don’t let it get that way between you and Lindsay, Cath. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

They walked in silence until Catherine murmured, “Why didn’t you ever tell us?"

“Protection, mostly. For me and her. But, uh, we never had the kind of relationship that allows for “best Dad” mugs and bragging rights, you know? She was never happy with me, with the job, with the life. She learned that early on from her mother. And the rift just happened--”

_You failed, Jim. Look what you’ve done to your daughter._

“I’m sorry.” Catherine stopped, pulled him over to the side of the street where pedestrians wouldn’t run them down. “I can see you love her.”

“She’s my daughter.” He swiped at his eyes, which were threatening to spill over with moisture again. “But this time she’s the one who left me.”

“It isn’t a reflection on you, Jim. It’s a reflection on her.”

“Daughters don’t leave behind decent fathers.”

“Daughters– kids– have a way of coming back to the people who love them most. She’ll come back to you.”

Jim nodded, choked up again. Catherine leaned over and brushed his cheek with her lips, fleeting, soft, a hint of pressure for half a moment and then gone. 

“Come on. Let’s go see the fountains.”

***

**“The Finger”**

Jim found his heart pounding with unnecessary force as he set down the cell phone and began putting out a BOLO for Roy Logan’s car. 

A finger in a glass of ice. 

Cath’s abandoned kit, gun, and phone. 

What the hell was happening?

A helpless feeling of rage was building in his chest. God only knew when he’d started feeling so strongly about Catherine. They’d been colleagues for so long he’d never actually let himself look at her in any way other than casual friendliness. But suddenly he found himself taking stock of her as she stalked out crime scenes, all grace and ease; wanting to touch her knee when they drove in the car together; watching her mouth as she talked.

And then there was his mind–his idle thoughts pleasant, then mildly erotic, then all out filthy until he was half-hard at the sight of her. What the hell was she doing to get under his skin? 

And now she was out there with a potential murder suspect, god only knew where, doing god only knew what. And there was nothing he could do. The only thing to do was wait, and hope that Cath would come home safe.

**\--10 hours later–**

The minute he heard they had arrived at the station, he headed for the interrogation room. He knew without even having to ask that Cath would be there, listening to Roy Logan and adding her own details and information to the story. 

He peered in to the interrogation room through the two way mirrors. She looked none the worse for the wear, just tired, with too tight lines around her mouth. He offered up silent thanks to whichever deity happened to be listening. 

He knocked on the door and then stuck his head inside. “Catherine? Can I see you a moment?”

She nodded and pushed herself up to standing, her posture weary. He ushered her out the door, down the hall, and into his office, before pushing the door closed. 

It was all he could do not to pull her to him. He kept his voice light, trying not to show the concern that was trying to push him forward and into her personal space.

“Hey. You okay?”

Catherine lifted tired eyes to his. “Been better? You?”

“Worried about you. Don’t disappear like that again, okay?”

He gave in to the impulse and stepped toward her, not sure whether she’d want the contact of a hug, and was surprised when she practically melted into him. He held her hard, hands spread wide across her back, his fingers itching to move up into her hair, so glad to see her that he felt his heart give a muted thrum.

“I have never had to think so fast and so hard in my life as I did trying to leave you guys all those clues.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder but he could still make out the words. 

“You did great,” he assured her, patting her back, relief coursing through him. “You did just fine.”

***

**“A Little Murder”**

When the call came from Warrick, he stalked out of his office and over to the crime scene himself. 

The newbie had stationed himself by the perimeter, trying desperately to look alert and aware. Jim slammed the car door and stalked toward him. The newbie, sensing his superior’s approach, came to rigid attention. 

“You didn’t clear the scene?”

“Sir, I’m sorry. I thought I covered everything.”

“As CSI Brown no doubt mentioned to you, we lost a CSI two years ago because someone didn’t clear the scene all the way. When you clear a scene, you do so thoroughly, no matter how disgusted you are at what you find there, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“This happens again, you’ll find yourself writing traffic tickets out in Henderson. Am I making myself clear?”

“Clear, yes, sir.”

“Good.”

The reprimand done, Jim headed for the ambulance where Catherine was sitting. She’d exchanged her contaminated clothing for a jump suit. The gash across her forehead was livid, still oozing fresh blood. Anger and adrenaline flooded his system as memories of Holly Gribbs came stampeding back from the farthest corners of his brain.

Warrick was gently using a swab on Catherine’s throat. He barely gave Jim a glance as the detective walked up. “Guy got her around the neck before he slammed her head against the wall. Going to try for epithelials.”

“You didn’t have to come, Jim,” Catherine said, tilting her head to one side to allow Warrick access to her neck. “I’m okay.”

“Are you kidding? I wanted to rip that kid a new one personally.” And see for himself that she was okay. The damn rookie was the least of his concerns.

Warrick finished with the swab and capped it. “Let me put all this in the truck and then we can head inside– if you’re feeling up to it.” He was giving Catherine a look that clearly said he didn’t think she should be out in the field. She was doing her best to ignore it. 

“I’m okay,” Catherine repeated, trying for a reassuring smile at both men. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Don’t go away,” Warrick said, and headed off for the truck, evidence bags in hand.

Alone with Catherine, Jim let himself examine her closely. The gash on her forehead was ugly, and there were bruises blooming on her arms and neck. Anger boiled in his gut. “I hope you got a piece of him.”

“Tried. He was too fast.” Catherine shook her head in self-deprecation. “All those self-defense courses and I didn’t even get in a decent punch.” She glanced over at the rookie. “You weren’t too hard on him, were you?”

“If I’d been too hard on him, you’d have heard the yelling.”

“I let him go outside. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

“It’s the fault of the bastard that did this to you.” He shook his head. “I swore I wasn’t going to let this happen again.” He laid a hand on her cheek, moved his thumb over the arch of her cheekbone. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you. You know that, right

Her hand came up to cover his. Her fingers were trembling. “Yeah. I’m getting an idea.”

*

He had just parked his car outside of the lab when he saw Catherine leaning against the side of one of the Tahoes, staring out over the unbroken landscape just outside the parking lot. He started to go to her, to see how she was faring, when he spied Warrick heading toward her.

They exchanged words Brass was too far away to hear, and he watched as Warrick extended his arms to Catherine. She fell into them, hugging him with a ferocity that was evident even from 50 feet away. Warrick’s hand came up to cradle her head. He held her as if he’d always wanted to, looking down at her with an affection that stabbed deep into Jim’s gut.

He turned to go inside, trying to keep the memory of their closeness from searing into the back of his eyelids. 

*

The team went out to breakfast after shift. Sara plunked herself down into her usual spot next to Grissom, her eyes rarely roaming from his face. The entomologist, as usual, was too preoccupied to notice. Nick sat at the head of the table, Brass at the opposite end. Warrick was next to Catherine, his arm spread protectively across the back of her chair. 

“ ... No, I’m serious, man!” Nick was laughing as he sipped his cup of coffee. “My Mom’s a ‘Wizard of OZ’ freak. She’s got every book ever written on that movie. She’s got one that talks about the people who played the Munchkins and I mean, damn– you want to talk Hollywood partiers, those guys apparently knew how to party.”

Sara took a bite of toast. “That has got to be one of the strangest subgroups I’ve ever come across. I mean, from an anthropological standpoint, they’re fascinating, especially if you look at the adaptations they have to make to survive in ‘normal’ society, but–“ 

Nick pretended to fall asleep in his plate of eggs, prompting a giggle and a whack on the arm from Sara. He straightened and blew his straw wrapper at Catherine. 

“Hey, Wonder Woman, you look 10,000 miles away. You okay?”

Catherine looked up from her pancakes and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Headache.”

Grissom looked up, tuning in for the first time all evening. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest, Catherine. Everything is day shift’s problem for the next 12 hours.”

Catherine nodded and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. Eddie’s got Lindsay for the day– I might actually get some sleep.”

Warrick raised his hand to the back of her neck, a gesture unnoticed by everyone except Brass. “Let me drive you home, Cath. I can pick you up for shift later on.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She dropped some bills on the table to pay for her meal. “See you guys later.

There was a chorus of good nights, a hug from Nick, an abstracted smile from Grissom. Brass watched the two of them leave, Warrick’s hand resting lightly on the small of her back, and felt the sensation of falling. 

“They’re cute,” Sara said, watching them leave. 

“Who? Cath and ‘Rick?”

“Don’t you think?”

Nick snorted into his cup of coffee. “This isn’t the kind of job for workplace dating, Sar.”

“I never said they were dating. I just said they were cute. He’s the only man she’ll let be protective of her. Everyone else would get their asses handed to them.”

“True.” He turned to follow Catherine and Warrick as they walked past the window. “You think there’s something there?”

“Stranger things have happened.” Sara flicked a sugar packet toward Brass. “What do you think, Jim?”

“Hmm? About what?”

“Warrick and Catherine?”

Brass tried not to let the hurt show on his face, affecting an expression of mild disapproval. “I think he’s too young for her.”

Sara grinned at Brass. “I suppose she needs an older man like you?”

_You bet your ass that’s what I think._

“Hey, age has some things that youth can’t touch.”

“Such as?” Nick asked, grinning cockily. 

“Experience. Maturity. Stamina. Control.”

_In other words, I could blow her mind and rearrange it with me in the center._

Sara nudged Brass’s arm. “You got a crush on Catherine?"

Brass laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as hollow to them as it did to him. “Me? No. I’m too old for crushes.

*

_Driving around a woman’s block to see if she’s home is definitely edging into stalker territory, Jimbo_ , he told himself as he steered the cruiser toward Catherine’s house. 

_I’m just checking up on her to see if she got home safely_ , he justified.

_And to see if Warrick’s still there_ , another (meaner) voice whispered.

An argument started up inside his head full force.

_She’s my friend. I want to make sure she’s okay._

_Please. You’ve got a hard-on for her._

_Catherine’s my colleague and my friend. I don’t want to jeopardize that._

_She’s also smokin’ hot. You want to make her scream your name._

The argument abruptly stopped when he neared Catherine’s house and saw Warrick’s Mustang still in the driveway. The house was dark and still. 

_She’s screaming someone’s name_ , the mean little voice shrilled. _And it sure as hell isn’t yours_. 

Brass eased his foot off the brake and pulled around the cul-de-sac. Swallowing hard, he headed for home, his stomach in free-fall, his heart throbbing. 

*

He caught up with Catherine the next day as she was leaving Doc Robbins’ autopsy room. 

“Hey. You doing okay?”

Catherine turned and smiled at him. She looked more relaxed than she had the previous day. “Fine. Thank god for Vicodin, right?” She fell into step beside him. “You’re on that 4-19 with me?”

“DB at Mandalay Bay? Yep, that’s me.”

“Good. If we get it processed fast enough you can buy me lunch.”

Brass gave her a wink, his confidence rushing back. “And what do I get in return?”

Catherine was about to banter back when Warrick came up the hallway. 

“Morning, troops,” Warrick drawled. “Heading out?” The look he gave Catherine lingered longer than usual. 

“Mandalay Bay,” Catherine replied. “You?”

“Joshua Tree Heights.” He winked at her. “You care to wager on who makes it back first?”

“Name your stakes.”

“You’re back first, I’ll buy you dinner and drinks at Marsala.”

“And if you’re first?

Warrick gave her a wink. “Personal lap dance.”

Catherine laughed, even though she was blushing. “See you later.” She took Brass’s arm and moved down the hall. 

“Think about it!” Warrick called after them, a smile apparent in his voice.

Brass tried his hardest to sound lighthearted. “You gonna take him up on that?”

Catherine grinned over at him and winked. “What do you think?” 

Brass let himself be led down the hall, a heavy buzz of disappointment filling his ears.

***

**“Grave Danger”**

He thought he’d known fear. As a cop, he felt like he’d seen everything. But he knew no fear so intense as the one that swept over him as the group of them dug for Nick’s life in the middle of an orange grove on the outskirts of Vegas. 

He dug in with the shovel, scraping back huge clods of dirt, sweating through his jacket. Others were in the hole with him– Warrick, Sara, Greg, all of them taking turns, handing off the shovels when they got too tired to go on. 

“Hey! Hey, I hit something!” Warrick yelled. He began frantically clearing away dirt as a huge plastic box began to emerge and Nick’s face, lumpy with ant bites, nose and ears stuffed with cotton, appeared.

“I need a fire extinguisher!” he heard Grissom yell, and everyone sprang into action. Greg was down in the hole then, pumping short bursts with the fire extinguisher. Warrick and Grissom were on their knees in front of the box, talking to Nick. 

He was the first to hear Catherine’s shout. “Everybody out of the hole! Get out of there! The box is rigged to explode!”

“I’m not leaving here without Nick!” Warrick yelled, a proclamation that the others agreed with. Sara actually surged forward toward the hole and Jim grasped her wrist. “No, stay put, come on, stay here.”

“We need to get him out!” There were tears streaming down her face, tears she probably wasn’t even conscious of. He held her wrist more firmly and squeezed and watched as Grissom began shouting orders and formulating plans. 

The box cracked open and Nick lay there, covered in ants, both dead and living. The sob that burst from his throat was enough to have Jim gripping Sara’s wrist even harder. Warrick and Grissom leaned over him, keeping him in place, talking reassuringly as Catherine handed down a carabiner and some rope. 

“Jim, help me form a line,” she said, handing him the rope and, grateful for something to do, he began organizing everyone into a line, ready to pull Nick to safety

They heaved with all their might as the backhoe dumped the dirt into the hole, muffling the explosives and equalizing Nick’s weight. The explosion rent the air and sent up clouds of dirt and debris. But when the dust cleared, Nick was there, and everyone swarmed around him, trying to help. 

He watched as Nick was loaded into the ambulance, Warrick and Catherine coming along to sit with him, and for the first time felt the full force of his fear and anxiety and relief flow through him. 

He stood with Grissom, Sara, Greg, and Ecklie, watching the ambulance move away, and was immensely proud of Gil when he heard him say to Ecklie, “I want my guys back.” 

* 

An hour later he was standing at Desert Palms with the rest of the team. Ecklie had called in day shift to work the scene, not trusting the neutrality of Nick’s friends and colleagues, leaving them free to wait anxiously for word on Nick. 

Warrick and Catherine were waiting in the lobby of the ER. Warrick’s face looked careworn, wracked with every conceivable emotion that could be felt when one’s best friend was badly injured. Catherine stood next to his seated form, gently rubbing his back. 

Jim felt a quick, hot stab of jealousy. He tried to quell it but to little avail. Cath and Warrick were close– maybe lovers, maybe not. He’d never ascertained whether or not they had reached that level, convincing himself that it wasn’t his business, that Catherine was a lost cause and that there were other avenues to explore. He’d been dating other women on and off and though those relationships helped to fill the void, they certainly did nothing to ease the pain. The only woman he thought about when he closed his eyes was standing three feet in front of him, offering comfort to a man he considered his colleague and friend. 

The room felt stifling all of a sudden. He turned on his heel and walked outside, wanting some air. 

He leaned against the side of the building, taking deep breaths, listening to the sirens wailing and trying not to remember the look on Nick’s face when they’d popped open the box. The memory was enough to make him want to bury his head in his hands.

“Jim."

Even with his eyes shut, he knew her before she spoke his name. He could smell her shampoo, her body wash, the unique scent that was her. She never wore perfume to work, but she didn’t need it to smell appealing. He breathed in and felt calmer than he had all night. 

“How’s he holding up?”

“He’s doing okay. They’re letting people in one at a time.” She leaned back against the wall, let her head sink back against the rough stone. He watched her and wanted to touch her face. He closed his eyes against that, too, and stood quietly, trying not to think. 

“Hey.” She’d put a hand on his forearm. “You okay?”

“I, um–“ He faltered. Shut his eyes again. “I can’t stop seeing his face.”

“I know.” Her voice was soft. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nicky so scared.” She squeezed his arm. “Tell the truth, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared. My heart’s still racing.”

Jim nodded. “If we had lost Nick tonight– It makes me feel sick. It makes you realize that there are people in your life you just cannot take for granted.”

“That’s what this job does. It makes you so aware of your own mortality. And just when you think there’s nothing else that can shock you, you get something like this.”

“You know, it’s nights like this that I wish I still had my wife. Not because she understood this kind of thing but because it was nice to have someone to come home to. Every once in a while, you need someone to remind you that there is still life outside of all of this.”

Catherine gave him a sad smile. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“You’ve got Lindsay. She’s got to be a big help.”

“She is. But it isn’t the same as having someone hold you close, having someone remind you that it’s all going to be okay.”

Jim turned to face her and the words burst out of him before he could stop himself. “Cath–“ He knew the emotion was naked on his face, too strong to suppress. “I want to do that for you.”

He was surprised and then gratified to see that the need was there on her face as well. He drank it in, hardly daring to hope. When her expression softened, when she stepped closer to him, he knew in an instant what was going to happen. 

Their lips came together gently, a soft brush, and then more urgently, more demanding. He slid a hand into her hair and cupped the back of her skull, pressing just enough to draw her closer to him. He let himself get lost in her, let himself wander until the only memory in his head was the feel of her hair in his hands and her breath in his mouth. 

***

**“A Bullet Runs Through It.”**

Catherine flew into his hospital room and stopped when she saw Grissom by the bed. 

“Gil, can I have a moment?”

Grissom nodded and left, his hand briefly touching Catherine’s on the way out. 

She was breathing hard, and he was certain that Gil had called her up from the cafeteria the moment he’d awakened from his second sleep of the day. He stared at her anxious face, her overly bright eyes, and was conscious of being clad only in a flimsy hospital gown. 

“Cath–“

“Don’t you EVER do that to me again!” Catherine looked so furious that he began to wish Gil were still in the room. “You dumb jerk, how could you go into that room with him? There are so many other people– it didn’t have to be you!”

Jim, at a loss, finally said, “Cath, why don’t you come on over here where I can touch you.

He waited for her to move into a chair and as soon as she had, he reached up and clasped the back of her neck. Pulling her down to him, he kissed her gently, letting his lips linger on hers. 

“I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that! I don’t want you to promise that!” Her voice was hollow, her eyes haunted. “It’s only going to make me more pissed off at you if–“ Her voice broke. “Just stop walking into the middle of every potential war zone like you’re wearing full Kevlar, okay? You know it isn’t going to keep you safe.”

She kissed him back then, desperately. “Don’t take us for granted, Jim. Please.” 

*

“Cath, it’s been two months! I’m fine.”

Catherine sat up and ran a hand through her tousled hair. Leaning back on her hands, she fixed a skeptical gaze on Jim. “You’re sure you’re up for this?”

They were lying in Jim’s bed, lights low. Jim had been enjoying himself immensely, playing gentle fingers up and down Catherine’s back as she stroked him toward a climax. She’d stopped just short of a release, leaving him groaning in frustration. 

“I’m not the only one up for it.” Jim directed his gaze at his lap. “I’m fine, Cath. Better than fine. My doctor gave me the okay to resume all my normal physical activity. And that,” he said, moving a hand to her thigh, “includes this.” He slid his fingers down and began to stroke her inner thigh. 

“I know,” Catherine said, seemingly oblivious to the stroking. “I just don’t want to aggravate something.”

“The only thing you’re aggravating is my libido.” Jim moved his hand lower. “If I promise not to overdo it, will you work with me a little bit?”

Catherine considered then nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” He pressed her back against the pillows until she was half-sitting, half-reclining then adjusted her legs so that he could kneel between them and only had to lean forward to kiss her. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

He moved his mouth down her throat, across the sweep of her collarbone, lingering at the curve of her shoulders, the hollow of her neck. His hands slid to cradle the small of her back, fingers moving in soft circles. He could feel the tension starting to leave her body

Settling her gently back on the pillows, he moved his body between her thighs and resumed kissing her. He grinned in satisfaction when he felt her starting to move gently beneath him and her arms came up to circle him, her hands resting on his middle back. Reaching between them, he found her warmth and began to caress gently, opening her up, then sliding in one finger, two, and moving in a light, easy rhythm. Her hands tightened on his back. 

Jim worked Catherine, using her gasps and moans as a gauge for what was achieving the best results. She grew wetter the longer he stroked her, and started to move more frantically under him. 

“Jim. Jim, please.”

“Slow, honey. Nice and easy.” He kissed her tenderly. “No rush.”

Catherine groaned in frustration. “Jim, I need you. Please–“

“You wanted me to take my time,” he teased. “So I am.”

Catherine bit her lip and gasped as he stroked her. “Oh, you’re cruel.”

“You don’t like this? I thought for sure this would get the best results.” 

Jim increased the speed and felt her thighs tremble. “Should I stop?” He started to pull his fingers away and stopped when she clamped down on them. 

“No, don’t you dare,” she breathed. She moved her thighs apart a little further and tried to grind against his hand. “Oh, god, this is good.”

“Wait until I’m inside you,” he murmured. “Wait until I’m filling you, so hot, so hard.” 

He could feel her trembling with suppressed need. Slipping out of her, he stifled her whimper of protest with his mouth. 

“Are you ready for me?”

“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh god, yes.” She opened for him, her hips moving in little frenzied jerks. 

Her back arched as he slid into her, eased in and out in a gentle rhythm. Catherine moaned in the back of her throat, helpless gasps that were frightfully effective at turning him on. He moved harder and deeper, felt her growing wetter with each movement. 

He reached between them and stroked her, knowing the right touch would send her into paroxysms of ecstasy. When she grabbed at the hard muscles in his back and pulled him tighter, he added the pressure she so badly wanted and felt her lose her core of control, contracting violently around him, her back arching hard as she gasped out his name.

His own release came moments later and he groaned against her neck, buried in her so deeply he found it hard to tell where he stopped and where she started. 

He eased onto his back, pulling her with him. Her head drooped onto his chest and he lightly stroked her hair. She was still breathing hard. 

“You okay?” He tilted her chin up so he could see her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. “Baby?”

Catherine sat up, her hair tumbling over her shoulders. She ran her hands up over his chest, tracing the slight scar left by the bullet. “I guess you do deserve that clean bill of health after all.”

***

**“Dead Doll”**

“It feels like we’re forever in and out of hospitals, doesn’t it?” Cath asked Jim as they parked the Tahoe and trooped into Desert Palms. 

“We seem to be particularly accident-prone, yes.” Jim frowned. “Where did you say they found Sara?”

“Out near Ice-Box canyon. She’s in pretty sorry shape.”

“Gil’s with her?”

“I don’t think Gil’s ever going to leave her side again.”

*

Sara looked worse than either of them had expected. Catherine had only caught a fleeting glimpse of Sara as she was being loaded into the med-flight helicopter, and Brass hadn’t seen her at all. The sight of their friend looking so totally wrecked brought both of them to a standstill. 

Sara was badly sunburned, her skin raw with insect bites. Her broken arm was covered in plaster up to the elbow. IV lines fed into her arms and curled over her body like small, wiry snakes. Her right check was deeply lacerated and was held together by steri-strips.

Grissom sat at her bedside, stroking her hair, his eyes shadowed by worry and pain. 

Catherine hesitantly pecked at the door, stuck her head in. Sara caught her eye and motioned weakly. 

“Hey.” Catherine stepped all the way inside. “Sara, how are you?”

“I feel like I’ve been blow-dried and shrink wrapped.” Her voice was a paper thin rasp. 

Catherine leaned over to hug her. “You look–

“I know I look terrible. It’s okay.”

Jim sidled in and leaned down to Sara’s other side to kiss her cheek. “Hey, Little Bit. Can you please never EVER do that again?!”

Sara smiled wanly. “You know you wanted the over-time.”

“Not that badly.”

Sara’s eyes fluttered shut. She jerked them up with an effort. “Sorry, I’m trying to stay awake but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Go on to sleep then,” Jim said and patted her shoulder. “We’ll let everyone know you need a few hours between visits.”

“Thanks, guys,” Grissom murmured. “I’ll be here if you need me. I’ve got my phone.”

Catherine shook her head. “You’re where you need to be. We can survive without you for awhile.”

Catherine and Jim walked out into the hallways. As Jim turned to shut the door, he saw Gil bend down and tenderly brush a kiss over Sara’s lips. Sara sighed and leaned into it, her hand coming up to rest on Gil’s cheek. 

*

Back in the Tahoe, he ruminated on what he had seen. The look on Gil’s face as he kissed Sara had been unbelievably tortured. It was obvious the man was wracked with guilt over her ordeal. He knew Gil felt he had failed on two counts– failing to protect Sara as her supervisor and as her lover. The weight of one was hard enough, but the weight of two had to be unbearable. No wonder his friend looked so hollow-eyed. 

He was still pondering this when Catherine pulled up at the lab. 

“Penny?” she queried. 

“Pretty big thoughts. Worth more than that.”

“Quarter then,” Catherine said, a hint of a smile on her face. “Talk to me.”

“You start making promises to yourself when you do this job. You’ll never let this or that happen. You’ll never let thus and so get hurt. You hope you can keep those promises. I feel bad for Gil because his are broken and it’s eating him up inside.

Catherine nodded. “I see the way he looks at Sara, the way she looks at him. There’s passion there, intensity. That kind of love burns everything else away. To feel like you’re going to lose that– it’s got to be hell.”

Jim turned to her, laid a hand on her wrist. “I hate that I can’t make those promises to you, Cat. I couldn’t guarantee I could keep them.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Catherine responded. “Whether you believe it or not, it isn’t your place to protect me or to save me. I’ve been doing pretty well so far on my own.” She held up a hand to silence him when he started to protest. “It’s your nature to want to make those promises, to be the hero for people who don’t have one. I’m not going to ask you to make them, though. It’s not fair to ask you to do that for me.”

Jim slid his hand up into her hair. “I’m still going to try my hardest not to let anything happen to you.”

*

The ride back to Jim’s was mercifully short. Both found themselves feeling a strange mix of exhaustion, adrenaline, and pent-up frustration. Though they moved back to Jim’s bedroom right away, it was a long time before Catherine could relax enough to respond to him. 

“I can’t stop thinking about them,” she murmured distractedly, turning onto her side. 

“I know.” Jim’s hand traced her hip. “It’s hard not to.”

“It’s certainly not the way I’d like to announce my relationship to the world.” She thought a moment. “And I’m not saying I’m in favor of announcing anything to the world but do you think we ought to at least tell Gil? Just so he’s aware?”

“I like knowing you’re my little secret.”

Catherine sighed deeply and Jim moved his hand up to stroke her hair. “Wrong answer?”

“Hmm? Oh. No, not the wrong answer, just–“ She shook her head. “What the hell’s the point, Jim? No matter who you love or how you do it, someone ends up hurt-- you or them, usually both. Why bother with it when all it causes is bruises and hurt feelings?”

“Because of this.” Jim waved his hand, encompassing the two of them, the bedroom, the bed. “Because of the way it feels to lie down with you and stroke your hair, to kiss you after a long day, to hear you laugh, to move inside you. That’s why I bother.”

“Does it make you upset that I’m not as optimistic about it as you are?”

“I wasn’t always this gung-ho about the sugar-coated moments, Cath. That’s only happened since I met you. I have my own hang-ups. Look, I know you went through eight kinds of hell with Eddie. So, no, it doesn’t bother me. All I want is for you to be willing to let it happen.” He gently tucked a curl behind her ear. “It’s cliched, but it needs to be said– I’m not going to hurt you, Cath.”

“That sounds like a promise to me,” Catherine whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“How about a pledge?”

“An oath.”

“A deal.”

“A vow,” Catherine teased, eyes sparkling with wickedness.

“No vows yet, baby.” Jim brushed his lips across her forehead, buried his fingers in her hair. “When you’re ready, I’ll promise you the moon.”

He moved between her legs and let himself drift on the sound of Catherine’s sig

 

***

**“For Warrick"**  

Lindsay was just leaving the house with an overnight bag when Jim pulled up in his cruiser, Catherine in the passenger seat. She took one look at her mother’s face and came sprinting over. 

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

Catherine tried to speak but couldn’t. She shook her head. 

“Captain Brass, is she okay?”

He debated telling Lindsay what had happened to Warrick but decided to let Catherine do that herself. “It was a really bad day at work, Linds.”

“Should I stay?” The seventeen-year-old furrowed her brow. “I can stay. I don’t mind.”

“I’ll take care of your mom, kiddo. Go on now.”

With a final concerned look at her mother, Lindsay jumped into her friend’s waiting car.

Catherine allowed herself to be steered inside. Jim led her back to her bedroom, where he removed her jacket and shoes, helped her on to the bed, and covered her with a blanket. Jim lay down next to her and cradled her head on his chest.

“I loved him,” she whispered. 

Jim didn’t make any pretense of ignorance. He knew exactly what she meant and how she meant it. 

“Do you think I didn’t know that, Cat?”

“I never told–“

“I can read your face. You glowed around him. You practically vibrated.”

“I didn’t tell him. Not directly anyway.”

“He knew. My God, Cath, I saw the way he looked at you when he thought no one else was watching. He only had eyes for you.”

“Tina–“

Jim shook his head. “It was always you. There was never any doubt. He glowed, too.”

Catherine turned her tear-streaked face up to him. 

“You must hate me.”

“For loving him? No. Why would I hold that against you when I have those same feelings myself?”

“For who?”

“Sweetheart, the whole time I was dating Heather I was loving you. How do you think that made me feel?” Jim gently caressed her cheek. “I can’t even pretend to know how hard this must be for you.” He moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her securely. “Sleep, baby. I’ll be here holding you.”

Catherine began to cry again. Jim let her, holding her close, murmuring to soothe without any hope of being a real comfort. When she had cried herself into a restless sleep, only then did he let his own tears come. 

***

**“Gun Crazy”**

Catherine’s ears were ringing and the backs of her eyes hurt. Her head ached with the dull pain she associated with staying out in the sun too long. Whatever she was lying on was particularly unyielding and wasn’t helping her discomfort. There was a deep, uncomfortable pressure on the right side of her torso and splitting pain. She groaned. 

“ ... coming around. Catherine? Catherine, can you hear me?”

Nick’s voice. His accent was out, as it seemed to be in times of stress. 

“Catherine, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

She closed her fingers around Nick’s and felt a squeeze in return. 

“Open your eyes for me, darlin.’ Come on.”

Catherine managed to crack open eyelids that weighed half a ton and found herself staring up at a turbulent sky and Nick’s worried face. 

“Nicky, what happened?”

“Suspect reappeared at the scene. Shots fired. You were hit in the abdomen.”

“You okay?” Catherine breathed. 

“Greg and I are fine.”

“Greg–“ Catherine tried to sit up and nearly choked on the wave of pain that took her breath away.

“I’m okay, Cath,” came Greg’s voice. She tilted her head down far enough to make out his lean form hunched over her, gloved hands pressing down on her mid-section. “I’d give you a hug but I think you’d rather have my hands here.”

“The scene– is it secure?”

“As secure as it’s going to be till we get you into an ambulance.”

Catherine nodded then wished she hadn’t. It hurt to move. “Nicky, call Jim.”

“He’s on his way with Grissom.” Nick peered at her anxiously. “You okay?”

“Light-headed.”

“You look pale. Greg, you putting enough pressure on her?”

“I don’t want to hurt her, Nick.”

“I know, man, but I’d rather hurt her than lose her.”

“It’s okay, Greg,” Catherine murmured. “You’re not going to hurt me any worse than I already am.” She reached down and touched Greg’s arm. “Push down hard. I can stand it.”

Greg looked pained, but nodded. “I’m sorry.”

The white hot pain increased exponentially and Catherine had to fight for consciousness. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the dusty ground. She felt Nick pick up her hand and she squeezed hard, past caring whether she hurt him. His face, pale and stricken, blurred at the edges. 

She must have lost consciousness, she reasoned, because she was seeing red and blue lights where none had been before. There were footsteps coming toward her and then a hum of voices. 

“Here, Greg, let me take over,” she heard Grissom say, and watched as they switched places. There was movement around her head and she realized Jim had taken Nick’s place. 

“Hold her shoulders, Jim.” Grissom pressed down on her abdomen and she felt an alarming gush of blood flow down her side. “Where the hell is that ambulance?”

“Five minutes behind us.” Jim bent to Catherine’s ear. “Stay with me, baby. Keep breathing.”

“Are you coming with me?”

“Are you kidding? The ER staff knows me by name. They’ll move you to the front of the line.” He took her hand, let her get a death grip on his fingers. “There’s perks to being a Captain’s girlfriend.”

The wail of sirens sounded and grew louder. Grissom moved out of the way as the ambulance crew hurried to stabilize Catherine under Jim’s watchful eye. He stood there and studied the middle distance, even after the ambulance had screamed off to Desert Palm, even after Nick and Greg began to re-process the crime scene, thinking.

*

Catherine struggled up out of unconsciousness to a blurred ceiling. She felt sweaty and clammy and her stomach was heaving. 

“Jim?” she murmured, licking dry lips. 

“Jim stepped out for a minute, Cath.” Grissom’s voice was soothing, but as it wasn’t the voice she was most anxious to hear, it only made her feel worse. 

“Gil. Where--”

“He should be back any time now. Do you want some water?”

“I feel sick.”

“Reaction to the anesthesia.” Grissom worked the controls on the bed so that it raised her top half to sitting, then held out a cup of water and a straw. “Sip slowly.”

She did, and knew immediately the water was a bad idea. Grissom was right there with a basin, one hand gently rubbing her back as she retched. The stitches in her mid-section throbbed. 

Gil helped her lay back down and wiped her forehead with a cool cloth. Catherine clenched her fists, trying to stop the tears from running down the side of her face. “I need Jim,” she whispered, her voice small. 

“I’ll go find him,” Gil promised. He draped the wet cloth over her forehead and pressed her hand. “Try to relax. I’ll have Nicky sit with you while I go track down Brass.” 

Catherine shut her eyes and willed herself not to cry.

*

Nick rose to his feet when Grissom came out into the hallway. “She okay?”

“Sick from the anesthetic. She’s asking for Brass.”

“Good luck with that. As soon as they told us she was being moved to the recovery room, he took off like a shot. Bet you anything he’s hunting down Branchero’s car right now. I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid.”

“Then I’ll have to find him first. Can you sit with her a while, Nick?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me know when you find him, okay?”

Nick moved in to Catherine’s room to find her staring at the ceiling, hands clenching the blankets. 

“You’ve got a pain pump right there,” he told her, sitting down in the chair Grissom had vacated. “Don’t be afraid to use it.” 

Catherine’s grip on the blankets loosened and she groped for the button on the IV. She pressed it and turned her head to look at Nick. Her cheeks were flushed with fever. “I thought I could handle anything,” she murmured. “Not this.”

“This isn’t something you ‘handle’ on your own, honey. That’s why medical science invented morphine and anesthetic.” He slid his hand into hers. “Squeeze when it gets too bad.”

“I might break your fingers,” she gritted, tears working their way down her cheeks.

“What’re a few metacarpals between friends?” Nick adjusted the washcloth on her forehead. “You want to tell me something?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“When did you and Jim start up?”

Catherine squeezed her eyes shut, caught somewhere between pleasure and embarrassment. “How did you know?”

“I heard him call you ‘baby.’ I kind of pieced it together from there.” He gave her a sad look. “Was it before or after Warrick?”

“Before. I couldn’t stand– God, Nicky, if he and I could have gotten our acts together things could have been so different.”

“I know. He said something once that made me think– well, it became obvious after that there was only one person he was in love with and it wasn’t Tina.” He gently stroked her fingers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Jim is– Nicky, he’s my rock. It isn’t like it would have been with– with Warrick. But it’s strong, and it’s tender, and it’s deep.”

“You deserve that, Cath. And so does he.” He frowned when her breathing began to come shorter. “Pain again?” 

Catherine nodded, gritting her teeth, rapidly losing her core of control. “I need Jim.”

“I know, honey.” Nick helplessly ran his hand up and down her arm, trying to soothe. “I know.”

*

By the time Grissom caught up with Brass, the policeman was busily slamming Branchero against the side of the cruiser. 

“You dumb punk,” he snarled, making the youth twist in his grasp. “You think it’s funny to play with guns?” He started to pull back his fist, would have made contact with the kid’s face if Gil hadn’t called his name. 

“Jim, stop.”

Brass turned with a snarl. “You want this kid to get away with shooting an officer? You want Catherine to suffer because of him?”

“You know I don’t. You also know this isn’t the way to go about it.” Grissom approached, hands by his sides in a placating gesture. “Cuff him, take him in. Nothing extra on your part. You know it’s going to cause more harm than good.” Grissom moved closer. “I already called back-up. You found him. Let them take him in. You go and be with Catherine.”

Another cruiser pulled up– the promised back-up. Brass looked hard at the kid, who was quaking with fear, and at Grissom, who was obviously trying to stop him from doing something he’d later regret. Cuffing the kid, he roughly passed him over to one of the officers. 

“Come on,” Grissom said, motioning toward the Tahoe. “I’ll drive you.”

*

Even after five minutes in the car, Brass couldn’t stop shaking with rage. 

“It’s not the kid that’s pissing you off,” Grissom said. “He’s not the first dumb kid with a gun to shoot up someone in this city. So what is it?”

“He’s the first dumb kid to shoot Catherine. Isn’t that enough to piss you off?”

“Of course it is. But we’ve been through this before– with Warrick, with Nicky, with Sara. You didn’t take the manhunt into your own hands then. What’s changed?”

Brass shook his head and didn’t answer. 

“You’re not going to do her any good running off half-cocked. What if that kid had kept the gun instead of ditching it? What if he’d pulled it on you while you didn’t have back-up?”

Brass glared out the window. 

“Look, Jim, I know what you’re going through. You think I didn’t go through the same thing with Sara? That I didn’t want to kill that evil bitch for putting her through hell in the desert? But if you let that rage overtake you, it’s going to keep you hostage for the rest of your life.” 

His hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel.

 “I’m mad as hell about this. But if I let that consume me, I’m going to lose sight of what matters– that she is alive, she is going to be okay, and that we’re going to keep on doing what we’re doing, regardless of the people who try to stop us.”

“Always in control, aren’t you, Gil?”

Grissom flipped on the signal and made the turn into Desert Palms. “It’s easier that way.”

*

Catherine woke up from a morphine haze to find Jim sitting next to her bed, his eyes fixed on hers. The room behind him had filled up with flowers in the hours she’d been asleep. 

“You’re here,” she murmured, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“How’s the pain?” he asked, covering her hand with his and bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. 

“Bearable.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought child-birth was the worst pain anyone could endure but I think being shot is right up there with it.” She shifted and gritted her teeth. “Did you feel like this after you were shot?”

“How’s that?”

“Like I’m going to fall apart if I move too fast.”

“Sounds about right to me.” He touched her fingers to his lips again. “You going to get a tattoo to commemorate that scar? We’ll match.”

“I think I have better things to tattoo on myself than the date I got shot, thanks.” Catherine’s eyes widened. “The shooter. Did you get him?”

“Yeah.” Jim’s mouth tightened at the memory. “Yeah, we got him.”

“Good. It doesn’t seem fair that I’m the one in this much pain– I’m supposed to be one of the good guys.”

Jim chuckled softly. “You’re definitely one of the good guys.” He leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, baby.”

Catherine’s eyes searched his face. “What happened?”

“Went a little crazy.” He sighed, remembering Gil’s scolding. “Okay, a lot crazy. And I shouldn’t have let myself go like that. I just– with Nicky and the box, and Sara and the car, and Warrick and that motherfucker McKean, I sort of went haywire.”

Catherine sighed. “You didn’t do anything that’s going to get you a suspension, did you?”

“No. Gil managed to talk me out of that.

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not. Just thank Gil the next time you see him.

“Make sure you thank him, too. He saved you from having to watch me throw up half the lining of my stomach.”

Jim winced. “That bad, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Catherine sighed, squeezed his fingers. “I get it now, you know. Why Nick was so distant for awhile after the box. Why Sara left. It– it’s pretty damn scary. I remember watching them afterward and seeing them become a little less devil-may-care walking on to a scene, a little more likely to wait for back-up, to wear a vest, to pull their gun. And I– I keep thinking that it’s not going to be so easy after this, that I won’t be able to just charge right back in, consequences be damned.”

Jim nodded sagely. “Yep. I know that feeling, too. It was hard for me. I sure as hell didn’t want to get shot again. And then I– I didn’t want to take you for granted, you know? Didn’t want to just charge in and run the risk of leaving you behind.”

Catherine nodded, eyes bright. “Yeah, I think– I think there’s a lot of things I need to take into consideration now.” 

“Would one of those things be your fiancé?”

Catherine shook her head. “Sorry, Jim, I’m still foggy. Did you just say fiancé?”

“Yeah. Me. If you’ll have me.”

“What?” Catherine stared at him in such utter disbelief that Jim had to work hard not to chuckle.

“It’s pretty short notice, I know, and I don’t have a ring yet, but you’d probably like to pick out your own anyway ...” He took both Catherine’s hands in his. “How about it, Catherine? Will you marry me? It doesn’t have to be now or a year from now or even two years from now but ... I do want it. Want you. I want you to marry me. Very much.”

Catherine found herself caught fiercely between tears and laughter and ended up doing a little of both. She added wincing to the mixture when the laughing pulled her stitches and it was several moments before she could do anything but hold her side, wipe her eyes, and laugh. 

“Yes,” she managed finally, her hand coming up to Jim’s cheek. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

Jim’s eyes were moist when he looked at her, a grin the likes of which she’d never seen splitting his face. “You going to let me make those promises now? The ones we talked about?”

Catherine nodded, hands still framing Jim’s face. “Only if you’re going to keep them.”

“I’m sure as hell going to try.”

END.

 

 


End file.
